


The Ghost of Gregory Moth

by Baitnate



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bondage, Evil Twisted Unicorns, Gay Male Character, M/M, Old Halloween Fic, Revenge, Sadism, Serial Killer, Some Really Fucked Up Shit, Some Really Really Fucked Up Shit, Torture, Total Psychotic Head Trip, ghost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1505726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baitnate/pseuds/Baitnate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glenn wants to summon the ghost of Mr. Moth, a serial rapist and sadist who tormented him when he was younger. His friends are not so sure. What happens next is a sick and twisted psychomachia between two bitter enemies.</p><p>"You're in the very gay mind of a very gay man. And the thing you should know about us gays is that we are all hopelessly psychotic."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ghost of Gregory Moth

WARNING: VERY MATURE CONTENT  
This story contains some elements that are not suitable for decent company. This work contains some disturbing imagery, torture and sadism, occult elements and the supernatural, as well as some sexuality of the gay variety. It is also dark and borderline psychotic and should not be read by the faint of heart or the easily disturbed of mind. If these things offend you, please, very kindly, hit the “back” button on your browser and go read something else.  
All characters in this story are over the age of 18 and are based on fictional people. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental (and kinda freaky).   
So, with that, consider yourself warned. 

 

“It is not enough to have a good mind; the main thing is to use it well.”  
-Rene Descartes

 

His eyes were brown.  
He kept working on the circle. He would finish by tonight, he swore it.

***

“I'm having doubts.” Dustin spoke after chewing down a french fry.   
“I wanna help Glenn out.” Blake sighed. “He's been haunted by this forever. Nothing seems to work, and he's set on this plan.”  
“I don't know.... calling up a ghost? That's crazy shit.”  
“I don't believe in ghosts.” Blake replied, turning down the highway. “I think of it as a placebo effect. It's Glenn's way of taking back control.”   
“I'm all for helping, but still. It's just freaky.” Dustin leaned against the window, his somewhat curly blond hair shimmering in the setting sun's light. He got lost in his thoughts, and was eager to stretch his legs. The house where they were going to put Glenn's demons to rest bugged him on a spiritual level. The place was unnatural and silent. No animals could be heard, despite how distant from human civilization the place was. The floorboards creaked and cracked sometimes, and he swore someone was in the house. Of course, it WAS haunted, but it felt like someone was physically there, ready to reach out and grab him.   
Blake guided the steering wheel through the twists and turns of the old highway, until eventually they exited onto a stretch of road that had been forgotten since.... well, forever. Soon it would give away to gravel, before they came to the old two-story house, with his crumbled, faded paint job. It was a sickly burnt brown-amber color, like skin left in the sun too long. The roof was patchy, missing the wooden shingles in places, with a giant hole in the second story where the elements forced their way in. They had been here for two days already, staking the place out, with Glenn getting a feel for it. Glenn slept in his little black car while Dustin and Blake had converted the back of his green SUV into a makeshift sleeping area. None of them dared sleep in the house- spiritual hazards aside, it was dangerous to explore, with the rotten wood seeming to abhor their presence, wanting to collapse and kill them all, it seemed. Even the noise of the creek outside, often soothing to sleepers, was menacing and somehow wrong when heard from within the house.  
Adding to the dreadful aura of the place was it's macabre history. The previous owner was a man named Dr. Gregory Moth, who -not withstanding his skill at dentistry and time spent as a volunteer high school coach- was by the standards of any era, a very bad man. He had a liking for young boys, a twisted desire for their bodies that turned him into a hunter of the innocent and sent him out on weekly or monthly hunts. He had been doing this for months, if possibly years; he was methodical and brilliant in execution. Ten boys were still missing to this day; all of them trouble-makers, usually unpopular and isolated from family or friends.... ten of them were still missing in town, and presumed murdered. Only two coming back to civilization.   
Glenn was the first, and he became a recluse, holing up and having to be institutionalized; he was only 13 at the time. Blake and Dustin were both there for him- his team of therapists recommended they visit him often- and saw the worst of it. Blake remembered being helpless and unable to do anything for his friend, whom he'd known since Kindergarten. Dustin felt the same, having joined their trio when he moved into their school in the third grade. They were a trio triumphant, always watching each other's backs and hanging out. They were incredibly, incredibly close with trust levels unparalleled. Before coming out to his parents, Dustin came out to Blake and Glenn first. It was this friendship most sacred that brought Glenn back from the dark abyss of his own shattered mind. And it was with their support that he became a human being once more. Although he was never quite the same Glenn they once knew.  
As for the second boy.... he was a brilliant young man named Felix Harris, who finally put a stop to the killings. For he recognized his rapist's voice. Specifically, the way Dr. Moth said the word “Sanctuary,” referring to the house that the three boys were now exploring. Hearing Dr. Moth give a speech to the basketball team that he coached, the man gave a pre-game speech.  
“We have the advantage here, gentlemen. But don't get cocky! Give it your best effort and destroy them! They're here to prove their better than you all are! They're here to embarrass you in front of your peers, and they're here to violate your sanctuary! Don't let them succeed! 1, 2, 3, Go Ravens!”  
Felix had ditched the team that night, only showing up to the after-party at the local pizza shack. The other boys heckled the shit out of him, cursing his lazy ass for not making it. But they didn't heckle for long. They were instead screaming when Felix launched himself onto Coach Moth and tore his throat out with his teeth. Screaming “RAPIST PEDOPHILE RAPIST FUCKER ASSHOLE DIEDIEDIEDIEDIE!” until the cops arrived. Dr. Moth's face had been ripped to pieces and several of his ribs and collarbone had been broken by his victim's punches.   
Felix's lawyer got him off on insanity charges. Felix later ate his father's pistol.

***

His eyes were brown.  
So here they all were, years later, on summer break from college, with Glenn sweating, his hair matted to his head as he furiously drew the lines of the summoning circle. It had been an amazing feat of arcane engineering, with each symbol meticulously crafted from the draw paper that he kept close at hand, consulting it every couple of seconds to ensure absolute precision. Glenn's eyes blazed with the fires of hellish revenge, and he would not stop until it was finished. His brows seemed permanently furrowed and he almost NEVER blinked, less he destroy his drawing. Two large rings formed the inner and outer circles, with four smaller circles situated at the four cardinal points, precisely pinpointed using a compass. Seven candles would go in each of these, as the ritual demanded. Finally, outside the outer circle were drawn in three triangles, placed exactly within equal distance from each other surrounding the circle. Glenn and his buddies would stand within these, and channel their energies towards drawing out the ghost.  
How exactly Glenn knew that Dr. Moth was going to be in this house was a mystery. But Glenn remembered it well. This was where Gregory brought his victims to abuse and kill. He was damned certain of it. He didn't even look up as Blake and Dustin entered, still scribing the sigils and wards that were going to be necessary to keep the ghost in place. The other two were now becoming used to this sight, and sat down quietly on a bench while Glenn finished his work. He was shirtless, bent over, with beads of sweat going down his back, some of which soaked the blue rim of his jeans. He did not take water, though. He was too busy. He continued for several silent minutes, endlessly working and working. Until finally, he was finished. The circle was complete. It was about ten feet by ten feet and lay over a flattened, totally clean area of the house in the midst of the ruins of the living room. He leaned back, his knees falling to the earth and he glanced skyward, sighing heavily.  
“Glenn?” Blake asked.  
“It's done. Tonight we can begin the ritual.” Glenn said, very calmly and very coldly.   
“I got you a coke.”  
“Thank you.” He sighed, standing and coming to receive from hydration. He sipped, glancing not at his friends but into oblivion. He was pretty lost in thought.  
“Are you okay?” Dustin asked, nothing but concern on his voice.  
“I'm perfectly fine.” Glenn responded, rather harshly. “I'm feeling awesome, actually. I'm about to send my rapist to Hell. How many guys can say that?”  
“I'm not sure about this, it feels weird.” Dustin replied.  
“I need you, Dusty. The ritual needs three human channelers. Just keep an open mind and we can hold Moth in place. Then I'll finish the invocation and send him away from this place.” Glenn explained, hand on hip and coke coming to his frothing-dry lips. “I've been researching this for a year, Dusty. Nothing bad is going to happen. At least, not to us. I'd ask God for mercy on Dr. Moth, but the fucker doesn't deserve it.”  
“Okay, if it helps you feel better, Glenn. Just... be careful, kay?”  
“I am always careful.” Glenn narrowed his eyes. “The last time I wasn't careful, terrible things happened. But never again, I swear.” 

***

His eyes were brown.  
After the sun had set, and the crescent moon was basking in the darkened sky, the house took on an even more sinister mien. Shadows seemed to grasp for the boys, skulking on the borders of the electric lanterns they were using, and as Glenn lit the little white candles, one-by-one, he placed them in a meticulous circle within the circles, the distances measured with a ruler. No candle was out of place, it was that exact. Glenn had put on a new shirt once his sweat had dried. He had been collecting his thoughts and trying to stay focused the entire time. Steadfast and calm, he pointed for his friends to stand within the two triangles he had drawn. The other two were nervous as hell, but held themselves together. Glenn looked across the ritual circle he had drawn, with Blake standing to his left, and Dustin on his right.  
“Are you ready?” Glenn asked.  
“How does this work again? Just to be sure.” Blake spoke, his gaze on his friend.  
“Just open your mind. Don't think at all. Stand up with your arms outstretched. It will provide a channel for the energy to flow.” Glenn explained. “But stay within your triangle. It will protect you, and keep the energy strong. If you step away, Moth might escape.”  
“Gotcha.” Dustin swallowed.   
Glenn grinned at Dustin. “You especially got nothing to worry about. Being gay makes you stronger in spiritual matters.”  
Dustin raised an eyebrow. “You're making that up.”  
“Nope. Obscure rules of shamanism and spirituality number something-thousand. You could probably fight off a demonic possession by yourself without the aid of a priest.” Blake and Dustin started to giggle, and Glenn got the joke as well. “Okay! Back to your places. Relax and just let it flow, gentlemen.”  
Blake and Dustin stepped into their respective circles, each of them taking in a deep breath and holding their hands out, trying to relax and not think of anything. Almost immediately, they both felt something strange, a slight, almost nonexistent, tingling sensation in their fingers, especially those pointed towards Glenn. The energies seemed very, very real to them, despite believing that the ritual was just symbolic.   
Then the center of the circle dimmed as Glenn stopped intoning the dark chant of nonsense. He seemed to beam with pride at his accomplishment. “Do not freak out, whatever you do.” He solemnly spoke, a stern command if there ever was one. “It can't hurt you. It can't leave the circle.” He said this as a pillar of darkness formed, becoming like a shadow in the shape of a man. Soon it came to form, with a face of an old man forming in it. The eyes fell open like slits freshly cut from flesh, and the mouth followed soon, and a low, baritone moan emanated, rising in pitch steadily until it was a deep-throated man's roar of agony.   
“Are you Gregory Moth?” Glenn commanded, and the specter focused it's dark shape on him.  
“Yes..... Glenn? Little Glenny, is that you?” The ghost smiled.  
“Shut up.” Glenn commanded the ghost. “I'm here to send you to Hell, Greg.”  
“I see that, Glenny. Nice of you to bring your little friends along. Dustin, you're very cute, you know that? And you, Blake, oh what I wouldn't give to get a taste.”  
“Shut up!” Glenn barked.  
“You're so cute when you're angry, Glenny.” The ghost of Gregory Moth mocked the summoner. “I really should thank you for enhancing my power. I couldn't do anything beforehand.”  
“And you won't be able to anything else!” Glenn smirked. “You've been free too long, you fucking pervert. It's time for you to meet the Devil.”  
“We are each our own Devil, Glenny.” Greg replied. “And what makes you think your little circle of power is going to stop me?”  
“Go ahead and try to fly away. I DARE you.”  
“And run away from three beautiful boys and their hot little bodies? As if!” Gregory Moth snaked his head around to face Dustin. “You like spiders, boy?!” Dustin suddenly screamed, although Blake and Glenn didn't see what it was. But to Dustin, the spiders were very, very, very real! Dozens of the little buggers shot across the floorboards, running across his shoes and starting to climb up his legs. He yelped! Jumped! Shrieked and danced away!  
“NO!” Glenn roared.  
“YES!” Gregory guffawed. He eyed Dustin, as the youth stomped and ended up scuffing his shoe..... across the chalk circle, destroying a rune. That was all it took. Glenn saw this as well, and Gregory Moth flew through the thin little cut, as the summoner began to chant heavily and swiftly, only to stop mid-sentence as Gregory entered through his mouth, nose, ears and tear-ducts into him. Glenn fell to the floor, twitching and squirming.   
“OH GOD!” Blake shrieked, not sure as to who he needed to help. He slipped out of his triangle, scrambling around and panic overcame him. Dustin finally stopped screaming when the spiders stopped crawling and seemingly vanished. Or did they? He felt phantom legs. Blake, meanwhile, had finally gotten a grip on his sanity when he saw Glenn swing a two-by-four overhead, bringing it down on him with powerful force. He blacked out instantly.  
Dustin, though, scrambled to get away, only to be backed into a corner. But he saw Glenn's face, with a malicious grin, a hungry tongue licking his lips, and eyes that darted about.  
His eyes were orange.

***

Blake came too, feeling very cold and stiff. He lay on his back, with his wrists behind him, trussed in tight scratchy ropes to some sort of beam below him. His ankles were bound similarly, except that they were spread apart and immobile. His flaccid cock lay there, shrunken from the chill (yet still quite the sight- Blake was blessed down below), and he huffed air quickly, discovering his mouth was dry and tasted of dust and metal- a ring of steel had been forced into his mouth, with sharp tines poking at his cheeks. He shook his head, but it was fully strapped around him. It was then that he saw Dustin. Blindfolded, drooling, sweating the same fiendish metallic gag stuffed in his mouth, his arms behind him tied tight and his knees kept apart. He saw his ankles tied to a long stick, keeping them apart.  
But there was a good reason for them to be apart. Encasing his genitals was something terrible. Blake had heard of chastity devices, but this..... this was a fucking beartrap. It was a cage of sorts constructed of barbed wire, with hooks stretching the cock out and holding it in place. His blood ran cold when he saw the little drops of blood on the floor, illuminated in the light of the dozens of candles and small lanterns. Dustin was sobbing, muffled as it was by the ring between his teeth.   
His blood did not stay cold for long. He was surprised at how furious he was. Glenn approached them both, and he saw that it wasn't Glenn's brown eyes behind the face, but something orange and snake-like. Glenn was not in control of himself- this complicated things in his mind. He didn't know anything about exorcisms, save what he'd seen in the movies. Glenn was now Gregory, and Gregory owned the body of Glenn.  
“Ah, yes, you're awake.” Glenn's body smiled, with his teeth seemingly more yellowed and sharp. He ran his fingers across the leg, rising steadily and spiderlike as they neared his crotch. Blake struggled, flinching and thrashing about, his movements largely useless, and the ropes biting into his limbs. “Oh don't make me cut you.” Gregory licked his lips as the chilly fingers wrapped around Blake's member, and he yalped and groaned in his gag.   
“Actually, I forget what blood tastes like.” Greg grinned, and with a flash and shing, a letter opener flashed across Blake's chest, the sting following the initial cut by seconds, and Blake shook his head, a glob of slob falling out as he screamed “Aaaaaaaaaugggghhh!” He then recoiled in utter disgust! A yellowed tongue, longer than it should have been, emerged from Glenn's mouth and lapped up the blood, twisting in a corkscrew like a cat sucking up a column of milk. It was a disturbing sight, for Gregory Moth's unblinking eyeballs drilled his own the entire time. They seemed snake-like and devoid of mercy at all. Greg grabbed Dustin, pulling him roughly to his feet, causing the boy to squeal as the hooks and needles stabbed into his flesh, with every movement stinging like a vicious hornet of steel.   
“Start sucking, cunt.” Greg commanded, forcing Dustin's face down onto Blake's member. It was floppy, and difficult for Dustin to get his lips around, but he struggled, not wanting to incur more of the ghost's wrath! No sir, he'd been convinced by the stabbing pains in his cock.... Blake struggled and grunted, trying to get free. He struggled some more, when he felt the candle wax pool on his chest, held aloft by his captor.  
“Aaauuck UUU!” He frothed.  
“Don't be a pussy, Blake. You can take it. Be a real man, dammit!” Greg pushed Dustin's face into it. “And YOU! You like this shit, suck it, faggot! Suck it down and know your place!” Dustin weakly protested, and got a slit across the shoulderblade!   
“Aaaawww...” He stopped trying not to slobber and cried out. Being blind, his senses were enhanced, and hurt terribly from the back. But shing and shing! Two long slashes found themselves across his flesh, and he fell to his knees, the wood scraping his face as he screamed out!  
“Stupid me.” Greg groaned. “Should have known a faggot couldn't have taken that kind of pain. It's getting SO HARD to tell the real men from the cocksucking sissies these days..... Why? Why must you all act so WOMANISH?!”  
“Auuck ooaahhhuh!”  
“Mouthy. I like that.” With that he saw Glenn's body unzip his pants.

***

“STOP HURTING THEM!” Glenn screamed within the prison of his own mind. “STOP!”  
“Be silent, stupid boy!” Greg urged. “You summoned me! And now you've set me free! Stupid boy!”  
“I will send you to Hell, you fucking pervert! If it's the last thing I do, I will send you to Hell!” He protested. It was all he could do in his little corner of his mind. He could not even control his own body; even his voice was not his own, but it sounded like him entirely, making his (mental) blood boil over in fury.   
“You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?” Gregory Moth mocked him. “You were so EAGER to get closure and REVENGE, you couldn't just let me be. Now look, your little fag friends are suffering because YOU wanted the nightmares to STOP. YOU wanted me to suffer.... but now look at what YOU have wrought. I'm gonna have so much fun with them. Thank you, Glenny. You've always been my favorite little fag boy.”  
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”  
“Make me, hahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaa!”

***

Blake screamed and squirmed, his cock now covered in a rapidly cooling white wax, but with the pulsing burning ooze sticking to him and prolonging the agony.... He wished that he wasn't the one not being abused though. He really did, for it was painful to watch Dustin go through his torment.  
Gregory raised the swaying wad of barbed wire, before bringing it down hard onto Dustin's back. He held the boy down on the workbench by his head, and constellations of blood had already dotted his backside. Dustin was crying and pleading and begging for him to stop, in-between reciting his lines.  
WHACK!  
“I'm a faggot and deserve this, Master!” He screamed before bawling.   
“Damn right you are.” Gregory grinned. “You need to know your place, slave. You are less than a real man. Your only action is to SERVE. REAL. MEN.”  
“AAAAPPPKKK!!” Blake roared, his anger turning off the pain receptors for a bit. He twisted his hands about, the ropes straining- they were old and the elements had not shown them kindness, but they drew strength from the amount of rope holding him down. He yelped and a line of drool fell down his face as Glenn's body pushed his head down; were Blake standing up, he would have glancing at the sky. But instead he saw Gregory Moth unzipping his puppet body's pants and pulling out his.... er, Glenn's cock, stroking it and getting the thing hard.  
“You know, Glenny had the biggest crush on you, Blake.” Gregory giggled evilly. “Now he gets his wish! And you get a mouthful! BAHAHAHAHA!” The hardened spear found itself lodged down his throat, with Greg holding Blake's head with both hands and just thrusting his hips in a rapid raping of the open hole! Blake sputtered, spat and choked, gagging as the member went DEEP, with the sour-salt taste making him dry heave. “Oooooh.... OH God!” Greg moaned, for every time Blake would heave, his throat constricted and tightened greatly.

***

“FUCK YOU!” Glenn screamed within his broken brain, and suddenly, in a act of will most powerful, seized control of his legs once more, forcing Gregory backwards onto his ass! Or, rather, Glenn's body's ass.... he surprisingly felt no pain, being the one not in control of the body. Reacting quickly, he took control of his right arm, tendrils of his own psyche infusing the limb and gripping hard; it was like Greg's own tendrils were pushing him back, trying to unravel his control.   
So Glenn punched himself in the face. Blood dripped from his nose, but he didn't feel a thing. His eyes watered up, and he knew Greg was going to be muddled by his efforts.   
“Oh, so you want to play a game, now, do we? TASTE YOUR OWN MEDICINE BITCH!” Gregory Moth fumed within their shared cerebral space. Glenn suddenly found himself standing in a bathroom, staring at a tub full of blood, and he shrieked in terror! For within lay his mother, her wrists slit to pieces with unbelievable torrents of blood gushing forth.  
“She's not dead, fucktard!” Glenn screamed, his eyes narrowed at this defilement of his own memories. “We got her to the hospital! She's alive! She's alive! She's alive!”  
Next thing Glenn knew, he was in the showers at gym, with a ridiculously huge boner, possibly a foot long. The guys in gym class ran at him, swinging wet towels and striking him. “Whip the faggot! Whip the faggot! Whip the faggot!” They hooted, laughing. They looked like gay porn stars, actually, which Glenn realized that this situation was not real. They all were hairless, with chiseled abs and ridiculously huge cocks themselves.... Was that Drake Wild in the background? What the fuck?!  
“AAAAAARRRRRRGGGG!” Glenn stomped his foot, and scorpion tails erupted from the ground, only the size of long swords, and cut the bullies to pieces.   
Next thing he knew, he was at the abandoned fairgrounds in the middle of winter, stark naked. He summoned clothes, and felt warm again. Gregory Moth was standing before a carousel ride. With a wild grin on his face, he transformed into May.   
May was the first girl Glenn had ever dated.  
May was first girl he'd ever kissed.   
May was the first girl he'd ever slept with.  
May was also the vicious succubus from the frothing-fecal pit of Hell that, upon breaking up with Glenn, began to spread around the rumors that he was flaming homosexual. His life had been hell ever since. Greg/May smiled, six rows of shark teeth glimmering in the light.   
Glenn froze in fear, but then vanished.  
“Oh!” Gregory grinned, jumping up and down in victory. He extended his senses, trying to find his mental prisoner. “Glenny Glen-Glen! Where the hell did you go?!” Weird. He could not feel the boy. He probed wildly, looking through all parts of his psyche.  
Then it went black, and felt cramped. A hand grabbed him from behind, gripping his hair, and forcing him to the floor. “LET GO!”   
“No.” A frighteningly familiar voice boomed. It was that of his foster father from so long ago. He glanced about, Greg seeing the seven crosses on the wall of his own bedroom.  
The same bedroom he had growing up.  
The same bedroom where all the bad things lived.  
The same bedroom where his foster father had done terrible, terrible things to him so long ago.  
“NO!” Greg wailed. He saw the pictures on the dresser and the walls, but they were all images of Glenn, and they were laughing hysterically at him. A massive sandpaper-feeling dick blasted through Greg's pants and deep, deep, deep into his asshole, plowing the spaces through his body before finally bursting through his left nostril, with the thing dipping back and forth through him unnaturally, displacing all the organs in his body!  
He conjured claws on his hand, and flung backwards, slicing open the windpipe of his rapist. “YOU HAVE NO POWER!”  
The face was not of his foster father, though, but of Glenn himself. As the blood gushed from the wound, Glenn smiled. “Oh, I think I do.”

***

It was a strange, frightening sight, watching Glenn holler and roll and scream and crash into things. He was imprisoned in his own mind. Blake desperately tried to get his bonds undone, with Dustin working as best on his. His back was solid red by now, and the movements stung him fiercely.   
Yet Blake had finally gotten his wrist freed. They were getting closer. He did not keep his gaze off of Glenn's body, though.  
His eyes were orange.

***

White veiny hands with too many joints to the fingers burst from the concrete of the wintery carnival of horrors that Glenn and Gregory were battling over. They yanked and reached for Glenn, trying to subdue him fast. Glenn wore a black Dracula cape, which he flung open with a gentleman's flourish! Out of which marched nine-handed demonic clowns armed with butcher's tools, chopping and slopping and flopping at the limbs. Skeleton musicians played violins and guitars and pianos and flutes to accompany their fight, using tapeworms instead of fingers. Greg unzipped his pants and his phallus found it's way into the ground, burrowing like some giant primordial worm before bursting up from it behind Glenn, spraying caustic bile everywhere. Glenn, though, POOFED! Out of existence before the dick-worm could devour him entirely. Greg growled as his prey eluded him once more.  
The circus tent flap parted as Greg's foster father, except with razor blades for hands and about the size of a raging grizzly bear came rushing out to meet him. Oh, and there were about fifty of them coming out at once. Greg giggled evilly and threw up his hands. Out of the earth came hollow-eyed, moaning and screaming versions of Glenn's own mother, with drug needles jutting from her veins in her arms, thighs and torso. They screamed something unholy as the demonic foster fathers ripped them to bloody pieces. They vanished, and soon after, leaving Greg alone on the carnival field. The skeletons ceased to exist and only silence prevailed in the wintery wind.   
“Have you had enough, boy?!” Greg called out.   
“You're clever.” Glenn replied.  
“Of course I am, you stupid boy!” Gregory Moth barked, glancing around, literally everywhere, even looking behind himself without moving his head.   
“I have a question.” Glenn asked. There was no tone to his voice at all.  
Greg cocked an eyebrow. “Well, get on with it!”  
“How long can you animate a corpse, spirit?”  
Before he could answer, frozen needles ERUPTED at the speed of sound and thrust through all parts of his body, even his left eye, pinning him to the spot. Greg.... made a sound unearthly, something that could only have originated in the Underworld, not the world of mortals. 

***

His eyes were brown. And tearful.   
Glenn rose up, glancing at Blake, who was getting himself free, and Dustin, who was still struggling. “I'm so sorry!” He cried, grabbing a pair of manacles from the table and rushing up the stairs. He had to move quickly. Very quickly or else all was lost. 

***

Greg groaned and began to whittle away at the psyche icicles that bound him fast. He lit himself on fire, his anger being the fuel. The ice began to melt, although very slowly; it was compacted thick around him. The spear in his eye melted the swiftest, and he popped his eyeball back into it's socket. He was gonna kill Glenn for this!

***

Glenn ran to the creek, running downstream, looking for a pool of water deep enough. He was frantic, feeling his binding on Gregory Moth weakening. “At least I can't hurt them here.” He thought out loud, mentally kicking himself for ever attempting this stupid venture, for not letting the demons of the past lay impotent, silent and alone. This endeavor had gone wrong on so many levels, so many ways. Now his best friends lay bloody and abused back in a haunted house out in the middle of nowhere.   
Luckily he didn't have to travel far, finding a widening of the stream. It was well on it's way to merging with it's deeper river relative further down, but this was deep enough. He would fight Gregory if he tried to stop him. He clasped the manacles on his feet. They were solid steel, somewhat rusty but they held their locks. They would prevent movement at all; walking was a challenge, and swimming would be nearly impossible. He hopped out into the water, pulling the other set of locking cuffs behind his back and connected his wrists together. The rocks were slippery, but amazingly he didn't care. He hopped slowly, frantically trying to reach the middle of the stream.   
But he misjudged a stone. “SHIT!” It displaced itself, and Glenn fell backwards into the shallow water, hitting all the rocks he'd crossed before. Now soaked head to toe, he squirmed towards the middle, towards his death and his friend's salvation.

***

Gregory Moth flew into the core of Glenn's psyche once again, casting the boy aside like an impotent rag-doll. Then the horror of what Glenn was doing with his body struck him like a black thunderbolt. “YOU LITTLE FUCKTWAT!”  
“Yeah, no contact for you, asshole. Let's see you wiggle out of this without some magic circle to empower you.”  
“Oh you'll pay!” The god-like voice of his tormentor boomed. “You'll pay dearly. I'll make certain your little fag friends suffer!”  
“See you in Hell.” Was all Glenn replied.  
His eyes were furious orange.

***

“It's gonna be okay, Dusty. Just hold still.” The letter opener made quick work of the ropes, and Dustin's arms came free. Blake jumped around, looking for some clothes of some sort. Finding their stuff discard in a pile, he reached for his boxer briefs and jeans, throwing them on as fast as he could. He checked his pockets, trying to find his cell phone, but it was empty. He glanced a ways over, seeing a hammer and their phones, both smashed to bits.   
“Fuck.” He swore. He looked for a weapon. He'd have to do this himself. Tossing Dustin his clothes, he would need to make sure they got out alive himself. No help was coming. But thankfully there was a good knife, one that could easily threaten and flay the flesh off a man if needed. Blake picked that up, and ran outside. Dustin winced, but struggled into his cargo shorts, not bothering with a shirt (the blood and pain was too much) or his briefs (no time). He ran up the stairs to join Blake, but he was clearly hurting. Some of the wires had stabbed his thighs and little bloody bits pooled across his shorts.   
“Where'd he go?” Dustin asked, looking around warily. 

***

His eyes were orange. No, wait, they were brown. Er, wait, they were orange again!   
They were back at the carnival. Gregory Moth, full of bloody chilly holes and his jaw clenched tightly, his teeth straining, his fists tight and white with rage. Glenn began to dance, though. He bobbed his head, swung his hips and snapped his fingers as a massive pipe organ played by a grotesque fat demonic clown and a chorus of choir boys without eyes, but merely holes in their faces that seeped a foul tar-like substance down their faces sang some dramatic mad tune.   
“I'm going to devour your mind from the inside out.”  
“You I look like I give a damn?” Glenn, not bothering to lock eyes with the bestial being, kept dancing. Gregory slammed his fists on the ground, opening up a massive canyon full of teeth and tentacles below the boy. Except that gravity seemed to fail, and Glenn wiggled his butt in his face. “Yeah, you want me and my sweet ass, don'tcha?” He mocked, spanking his booty. He dispelled his clothes and stood their naked in the snow, with hot steam radiating off his body.  
“What are you doing, you psychotic freak?” Gregory Moth strode closer, enticed, but wary.  
“I've seen inside your mind, Mr. Moth.” Glenn replied. “I see what you wanted to do.”  
“Oh did you?” Gregory cocked an eyebrow. “Tell me, boy. What did you see?”  
“That you're the epitome of mankind, and that you're definitely a superior being to myself. I should have been grateful to serve you, to make you cum on command, and to be able to kiss your boots and be ever so glad that you.... you would whip me! To teach me how to be a proper servant! You did it for my own good, I see that now.”  
Greg stopped his advance, standing their in the silence of the drifting snow. “You're bluffing.”  
“No, never, SIR!” Glenn got down on all fours, crawling on his hands and knees, ass in the air as he approached Gregory as a lesser creature, an eager servant. He kissed the man's shoes, crawling up his pants to grip his shirt. “Sir, please. I was wrong. Let me serve you! Please, sir!”   
Greg stroked Glenn's face, and gently ran his fingers through his hair. It was.... weirdly assuring that one of his “students” would finally learn the lessons he had been trying to teach all the others. That, even though he was finally beyond death, that his mission was finally completed!   
Glenn fell to the ground, not breathing and in some form of sleep. It began to rain on the carnival, and not just a simple shower; no, this was a torrent of Biblical proportions, with the earth vanishing before Gregory Moth's senses. He found the water rising and rising, higher and higher. He assumed total control over the body of his host, and then learned the awful truth.....  
Suddenly kicking and screaming, Glenn's body thrashed above the waterline, sputtering and uttering a final cry before slipping back into the deep.  
His eyes were vengefully-fearfully orange.

***

“Blake! I heard something!” Dustin cried. “He's down there!” The two boys, now armed with a stick and a knife, ran in the general direction of the scream, scrambling across the broken leaves and needles of the underbrush. They were thankful to have found their shoes, or else this rush would have been stopped entirely. Although they were high on adrenaline, the early-early morning of the woods, even in summer, was still goosebump-inducingly cold. Coming to the stream, they followed it, keeping an eye out for anything noticeable.   
“Blake...” A sudden thought his Dustin as they were searching. “You... you don't think Glenn would have killed himself....”  
“Don't say that.” Blake shushed, and searched. They scrambled faster, and with Dustin's grim thought on his mind, he kept a close eye on the water.

***

HE HAD BEEN TRICKED THIS ENTIRE TIME BY THAT UNGRATEFUL LYING FAGGOT BASTARD! Gregory Moth screamed within his host's psyche, trying to awaken the body, but realizing that with the supply of oxygen to the brain cut off, with the lungs full of sweet mountain water, he could not do a single damn thing with his host!!  
He sent tendril after tendril of his soul-stuff out to ensnare the body, to try and move, and to try and get something to move. He triggered all the bodily responses he could, but found that even if he was successful, the little bastard had locked down his arms and legs! This.... this predicament was hopeless! Hopeless and damning!   
Greg would not die, this much he knew. He would go back to being a shapeless whispering spirit, unable to do anything in the world. He would be stuck at that damned cabin in the woods forever until some sap with the occult smarts to build a spirit circle came by.... and what were the chances of that?!! He would be with his tools and memories and his aching loneliness all over again! In massive rage he picked up the dead avatar of Glenn's mind and threw him across the world.   
“DAMN YOU! DAMN YOU AND ALL YOUR FAMILY TO HELL!!” The ghost of Gregory Moth roared.  
His eyes were closed.

***

Hands gripped him tightly, pulling the bound, waterlogged form from him.   
“BLAKE!” Dustin shrieked, “he's not breathing!”  
“Do something!” They pulled Glenn onto the shallow stones, dragging/carrying him to dry land as quick as possible. “Lifeguard!! Jesus CPR or something!”  
Nevermind that Dustin had saved a few kids from drowning before at the pool where he worked, but the panic of this supernatural event had him on edge. He held Glenn's nose, and blew a blast of air into his lungs, trying to displace the water and get him breathing again. He let go, and placing his hands upon his ribcage, pressed down repeatedly, counting out the pushes. Blake was out of breath, having done a good deal of the work pulling him out. The good news was, that Dustin's blood-covered back looked so much better after the stream had washed it. There was a tiny bit of hope.  
Holding Glenn's nose, Dustin went in, locking his lips onto his friend's.

***

The brilliant white sun emerged through the clouds once more, and with little else to provide footing in this dying land that was Glenn's mind, Gregory Moth flew into the air, trying to reach that sun. But it vanished before he could escape.... this was the second coming of it. Would it return? Greg did not know. But after the sun came the flashes of brilliant lightning, a joy to the eye to see, the waters of the flooded land electrified and wiggling with newfound life! Thunder boomed like an anthem in the horizon, calling for all the floating things to wake up once more.  
Then the sun returned, and Gregory Moth flew through it, with little hesitation.  
He did not see the light of the brilliant white sun strike his enemy. Glenn awoke from his nightmare.  
His eyes were brown.

***

“Gah! Gah, cawww!” Glenn choked as water burst out of his filled lungs. He rolled onto his side, with Blake holding him steady. He felt.... empty, with the ghost no longer inside him. Glenn's eyes fluttered shut, but he was breathing.  
“Holy shit.... Glenn! Glenn, stay with me, man.”   
Dustin fell over backwards, as if in seizure. His eyes went orange.

***

Gregory Moth found himself in the middle of some sort of twilight garden, the colors muted, but everything sparkled like it was covered in fresh dew. It was a lively garden with chirps of birds and the sound of a babbling brook to sooth the soul. Small crickets chirped. Yet, he felt somewhat alienated by the landscape. Everything was starring at him with utter hatred. Cute little rabbits glared daggers, and owls glared swords. Even the flowers seemed to be very hostile to him.  
Gregory Moth turned around, facing a massive throne. Upon that throne sat an Adonis-like version of Dustin- chiseled, muscular, powerful, regal, mighty, charming and attractive. He had rich golden eyes that shifted colors like motes of starlight in a swift spinning night sky, and Greg could not shake his gaze from them at all. He felt so tiny compared to the Titan-God before him. The throne was no less majestic, made of the feathers of angels and spanning out like a grand silver fan.   
When Dustin stood up, Greg realized that he was over 9 feet tall, and wore a simple white fur cloak about his shoulders, with furry trim around the edges. His only other article of garment was a white fur loincloth. Small songbirds settled on his shoulders. A few deer circled around him, and small flowers sprouted about his feet. Skunks, mice, raccoons and moles gathered about him protectively. It was like watching the gayest Disney Princess ever strut herself about the gayest Garden of Eden ever.   
“Hello.” The sweet harmonic melody that was Dustin's mind greeted the intruder.  
“Your mind is very different than Glenny's.” Gregory Moth smirked. “His defenses were considerate. But you, I can see the core of your being already. Please, just surrender, Dustin. You don't stand a chance.” Gregory seemed quite sure of himself.  
“Gregory Moth, you called me a faggot on multiple occasions, usually after beating me with a barbed wire whip.” Dustin gave away no emotions, but the forest creatures around him were stirring, as if itching to attack.... “And now you enter my own mind and demand my surrender. How quaint.” Dustin laughed.  
“You little shit, I beat your friend Glenn down like a bitch.”  
“Glenn is straight.” Dustin replied. “You're in the very gay mind of a very gay man. And the thing you should know about us gays is that we are all hopelessly psychotic.”  
“You're prissies and wimps.”  
“Oh really?” Dustin's voice went icy cold. Greg suddenly found himself unable to control his limbs and was held in place, spread-eagle in the air.   
“What....”  
“My friends are hungry.” Dustin sat down on his throne, and looked down on the woodland critters. “Well, what are you waiting for? FEAST ON HIS GUTS!”  
Gregory Moth, had he still a heartbeat, would have died on the spot, but instead he could do nothing as the woodland critters crew fangs and ran at him like a little furry stampede. Saber-fanged squirrels tore out hunks of flesh on his thighs, while a beaver ripped off his big toe. The deer bit down hard on his fingers and hand, tearing, ripping, yanking is arm out of his socket.   
“WHAT!?!” Gregory Moth tried to move but he could only spin his head and glance around. “NOOO!!!!” He screamed horrible obscenities as a chipmunk ripped out his eyeball and ate it, while a pair of robins tore open his stomach and sent his guts toppling out; some bear cubs and bunnies began to consume his intestines like spaghetti. A koala bear swung down on a vine, forced Greg's jaw open, and with it's tiny little paws of cuteness, yanked and pulled and yanked and pulled on Greg's tongue. Unable to remove the muscle, the thing instead used it's fiendish teeth and sawed it off in a couple bites! Blood waterfalled down Greg's chin as incoherent sounds filled the air in the chorus of giggling cannibal cute critters.   
They worked on him for what seemed like eternity, but it was merely minutes while their Titan-God-King Dustin sipped a sweet Shiraz wine on his white feathered throne. He was smiling, for he was very entertained by this gory spectacle. There was a glimmer in his golden eye, and a massive wrath erection forming in his groin. The little woodland creatures, their hunger sated, abandoned the hollowed-out corpse of Gregory Moth to float there; he was but a torso, his chest hollowed out and his lungs broken. His eyes and tongue and nose long gone, and his skull split open removing his brain. There are only one part of him left hanging on the shattered shell of his soul, and it was piece that Dustin had saved to last.   
A prancing glittering unicorn of pale purple came into the glade, a smile on it's almost cartoonish face. It seemed to be made of starlight, and where it tread, electronica-type club music of the most optimistic beat filled the air. The unicorn held it's head high, staring at the eyeless shredded form of Gregory Moth. How Greg could still see the creature without eyes in his head, he didn't know. But he saw and felt every movement the beast made. He felt everything.  
The horse swiftly lowered it's head and opened it's mouth, which was filled with crocodile teeth sharpened greatly and very thin, like triangular letter openers. It bit off his dick.

***

Blake and Glenn could only stare, dumbfounded at the twitching body of Dustin, with sexual moanings coming from his throat. These had been happening for several minutes, until his pelvis suddenly thrust high into the air, and he echoed a mating call not made by men since the discovery of fire! He fell back down flat, and opened his eyes.  
They were not orange.  
“Dusty!” Blake cried. “Dusty, holy shit!”  
“Are you alright? What happened to Greg?”  
“He's gone.” Dustin replied, sighing heavily. He felt very wet downstairs. His shorts were plastered to his crotch, and he really regretted not putting on his underwear..... but really, what were the chances? This had been a very fucked up day for him. He stood up, spent like a good bout of sex, without the awkwardness in the backside that kept him from walking properly.   
Glenn swallowed before asking him. “What happened to Greg?”  
“Oh, he's gone. Trust me.” Dustin replied. “He.... he didn't stand a chance. Holy shit, you were right, Glenn.”  
“Did you exorcize him from your mind?” Asked Glenn, watching him closely.  
“Um, no.” Dustin rubbed the back of his neck.  
“What?! Then what happened!” Blake demanded.  
“I, um, I think I ate him.”  
The other guys blinked, dumbfounded. It was Glenn who broke the awkward silence. “Wha...”  
“I think I ate him. I tore him to pieces and ate his soul.” Dustin shrugged.  
“Is that healthy?” Blake asked Glenn.  
“Beats me. I don't know much about.... ghost eaters.” Glenn looked worried.  
“Dude, don't worry. Greg is gone. He's not in control. There is NO FUCKING WAY he could have survived what I did to him.” They kept their eyes on him as they neared their cars. Dustin reached into the cooler in his car, pulling out a Gatorade and chugging it down. He was beat, spent and somewhat euphoric. It did indeed feel like really good sex.  
“So... how do you feel now?” Glenn asked.  
“I feel pretty good. Considering I splooged my pants while possessed by a ghost, I feel pretty damn good, actually.” Dustin was laughing.   
“Glenn, don't ask me to do any of this weird shit ever again.” Blake scolded, angry but still a little relieved. “And wash your dick, dude!”  
“Oh yeah.... I'm SOOOO sorry for that.” Glenn wanted to hide in a corner now, knowing what Greg made him do. Dustin laughed, his back still aching, with constellations of fresh scabs. It'd be a while before he was 100% again, but it seemed pretty worth it now.  
“Dusty, you sure you're okay?”  
“Yeah...” Dustin sighed, not really looking at his companions. “But something's been bugging me.”  
“Like what?” Glenn asked.  
“Well, here's the thing about eating the ghost..... he was.... delicious.”   
The other boys just stared at him, frightened just a bit by the disturbing smile creeping up on Dustin's face.   
“Is that normal?” His eyes were gold.

**Author's Note:**

> Another goddamned DeviantArt story. Entry for the Distressed Gentlemen October contest of 2013. Theme: Childhood fear.
> 
> Glenn: http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mcj1970vMc1rf2ryho1_500.jpg  
> Blake: http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mcj0vuODO71rf2ryho1_500.png  
> Dustin: http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mcj10fNfr81rf2ryho1_500.png


End file.
